


Timber

by rooonil_waazlib



Series: The One You Won't Forget [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, sequel to the elevator fic, yay!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-10
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-04-08 14:23:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4308498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rooonil_waazlib/pseuds/rooonil_waazlib
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You loud fuckers!  Would you kindly <em>fuck off</em>.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Timber

**Author's Note:**

> [Read the first part here!](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2613188)

The elevator looks innocuous when Bucky and Steve walk into the lobby of their building after their first date.  It’s been a whole week since they got stuck in there; much of the snow has been cleared, though more is falling even now.

“Should we risk it?” Steve asks, eyeing the elevator.  He hasn’t been back in it since The Incident.

As Steve watches, Bucky turns and looks back out to the street, running a hand through his snow-dotted dark hair.  “I mean, we don’t have any food to tide us over this time.”

Smiling, Steve nods.  “My thoughts exactly.  Race you?”

Laughing aloud, Bucky takes off, Steve right on his tail.  They pound up the stairs, neck and neck, but Bucky, by a nose, gets to the sixth floor landing first, cackling.  “And it’s Barnes taking the gold!” he crows.

“Only because the stairway’s too narrow for me to get past you!” Steve argues, but he’s laughing too as he shoves gently at Bucky’s shoulder.  Under his sweater, it’s like leaning on a brick wall.

Laughing, Bucky takes hold of his wrist and reels him in.  “Jesus, _sorry_.  I would have thought you’d be able to get by me just fine,” he says, his hand at the widest part of Steve’s forearm as if for emphasis.  “What with you bein’ so skinny, and all.”

Steve lets himself be drawn in, watches as Bucky tips his head back and sideways until his grin is on a distinct angle.  “Maybe I’ll just,” he starts, pretending like he’s moving in for a kiss, and then falls against Bucky, who squawks in a most undignified way and tries to catch him around the torso.  He stumbles, though, and they slam against the door labeled _6B_ —Bucky’s unit—cackling.  “Oh—oh, oops?  I thought for sure you’d be able to handle my skinny little ass.”

Bucky snickers against Steve’s ear, and Steve’s about to mirror him so their mouths touch when 6A’s door opens.

“You loud fuckers!  Would you kindly _fuck off_.”

“Sorry, sorry, Mrs Baumgarten,” Steve says, stifling his laughter and straightening up.  He puts a finger to his lips, his back still to Mrs Baumgarten’s unit while Bucky digs his keys out of his pocket.

“Come in,” Bucky says as he turns to the door and shoves the key into the lock.  “Come in, for some—some coffee.  Another drink.  Something.”

Mrs Baumgarten’s door slams shut again, and Bucky looks over his shoulder at Steve with a big smile, exhilarated, amused and joyful at the same time.  “Yeah,” Steve says.  He doesn’t think he could possibly say no to that smile.  “Yeah, okay.”

It seems as if Bucky makes sure to shut the door quietly behind them and Steve glances around, but only for somewhere to drop his jacket (a narrow side table, it turns out) so that he can crowd Bucky up against the door again and pick up where they left off.

Their first kiss starts off shallow, just their lips pressing together; then Bucky tips his head, opening his mouth as he gets a hand to Steve’s waist and pulls him closer.  “I mean,” he mutters against Steve’s mouth, “if you want something to drink—”

“I don’t,” Steve interrupts, and Bucky chuckles, pulling him close again and pivoting so it’s Steve against the door and Bucky against him.

“That’s the way,” Bucky murmurs, humming when Steve’s hands reach up around him and tightening his own hands across Steve’s hips.

Steve kisses him once more and hooks a leg up around Bucky’s calf.  He sinks a little against the doorway until he’s shorter than Bucky; pulling his arm back he slips his fingers into the front of Bucky’s V-neck collar, pulling it down until its point is nearly at his sternum.  Spreading his hand across Bucky’s sparse chest, Steve hikes his leg higher up against Bucky’s and twists so he can kiss at his throat.

Sighing, Bucky presses closer, his thigh pressing between Steve’s as his fingers slip under his shirt, warm and cool warring on either side of Steve’s body as he slides both flesh and metal hands up Steve’s ribs.  Steve wriggles, his lips pulling into a grin.

“Ticklish?” Bucky asks, chuckling.  When Steve nods, he puts his hands more firmly on Steve’s skin.  He leans back a little to take in the picture that Steve makes, leaning hard against the door, lips swollen from scraping along Bucky’s stubble, his grey t-shirt rucked up a little by Bucky’s wrists.  “God, look at you.  You mind if I—?”  He pulls at the shirt; Steve picks his arms up and lets him pull it off.

“ _Fuck_ , sugar,” Bucky breathes, leaning close to mouth at Steve’s collarbone, “fuck, I knew you were hiding something good under all this.”  He punctuates his words by tossing the shirt over his shoulder onto the floor.  Steve’s blushing when he looks up, bright red crawling over his ears and down his neck.  He straightens up to kiss him again.  “Anyone ever tell you how pretty you look when you’re blushing?”

Steve stifles a laugh, hooking his arm around Bucky’s neck.  “Nah,” he mutters, working with his other hand on pulling Bucky’s shirt off.  “C’mon, get this off.”

Bucky’s still half-laughing as he puts a hand over Steve’s, stopping its upward motion.  “Wait, hold on.  Wait.”

“Hm?”  Steve rests his head back against the door that they’re still standing against and pushes his fingers between Bucky’s.  “We moving too fast?”

“No, definitely not,” Bucky says, but he pulls back nonetheless.  “Just—it ain’t pretty.”  He holds his metal hand up, wiggling his fingers in front of Steve’s face.

Steve tips his head forward and drags his lips over the metal knuckles.  “Depends how you define pretty.”

Bucky laughs a little.  “I don’t think it’s pretty by any definition, but okay.”  He reaches over his head to grab the collar of his shirt.

“Wait,” Steve says, “you don’t—you don’t have to.  If you don’t want.”

They look at each other for a long moment; finally, Bucky inhales as he slides the shirt up over his head.  Steve can see the tension along the lines of his shoulders as he tosses the shirt aside, though he’s trying to look nonchalant.

It looks, more than anything, as if Bucky is wearing a formfitting metallic sleeve.  The scars that radiate from the edge of the metal and stretch down his side and across his chest are all too real, though.  But before Steve can feel pity for Bucky’s pain, something else wriggles its way to the forefront of his mind: how strong Bucky must be to have survived this.  It’s that thought that makes him drag Bucky back to him, kiss him senseless, stroke a palm over the seam where metal meets flesh.  He lets out a low shaky moan at the conflicting feel of cool metal against warm skin.

After a second, Bucky’s hands fit back against his waist and he steps back in close.  He purrs as Steve hitches his leg up around him, reaching down to hook his right arm under Steve’s knee and swivel his leg out so he can press in even closer.  “Shit,” Steve breathes as Bucky’s hips grind against his.

“Agreed,” Bucky mumbles, clamping both hands over Steve’s hips again and pulling him into a long slow roll.

“Hh— _ah_.”  Steve does little else for several seconds except cling to Bucky’s shoulders and allow his hips to be guided in a push-thrust-pull against Bucky’s.  Finally he lets his hands drag down Bucky’s back, scraping at his skin with nails bitten short, to paw at his ass through his jeans.  Bucky shudders as Steve’s hands travel down his body, his back bowing at Steve’s fingers in the groove of his spine, until they’re pressed hip to hip, chest to chest.

As Bucky reaches between them, Steve tips his hips upward.  But instead of taking the bait, all Bucky does is pop apart the fly on Steve’s pants before getting his arms back around him, sliding his fingers under the waistband of Steve’s boxer briefs and squeezing.  Steve breathes hot in his ear and licks at his skin, chasing the flavor of his sweat down his throat.  He leaves a mark at the base of Bucky’s neck, where it meets with his shoulder, and Bucky groans, turning his head in toward Steve’s and getting his thigh hard up between Steve’s legs.

Steve rocks against him, scratching at Bucky’s skin.  “Can I,” he gasps, twisting his hips forward then back into the touch of Bucky’s hands, “can I suck you off?”

“ _Jesus_ ,” Bucky groans, sagging against Steve for a few seconds before putting both hands on either side of Steve’s head and pushing himself back, breathing out through his mouth.  “Yes.  Yeah.  You can definitely— _definitely_ —suck me off.”

Grinning, Steve places both hands on Bucky’s belly and slides down until he’s kneeling, his back still against the door.  Bucky rests his forearms on the door and his head on his forearms, watching as Steve pulls free his belt and opens his fly.  “Fuck,” he breathes as Steve shoves his pants down just far enough for his cock to spring free.  His breath falls out of him in stutters as Steve wraps a hand around the base of his dick, as he licks lightly at the head.  “God, you’re so fucking hot.  Jesus.  _Jesus_ , sugar.  Come on, give it to me, please, oh, please.”

Steve smirks up at him.  “You want it?” he asks, licking at his red lips.  “You sure?”

Bucky lets out a sharp laugh and reaches down to get one hand into Steve’s hair.  “C’mon, I said please and everything.”

“Then take it,” Steve says, letting his mouth fall open and watching as Bucky’s eyes flutter closed for half a second.  Then Bucky opens his eyes and fucks into him, whining high through his nose as he does so.

“Fuck.  _Fuck_ ,” he pants, his hips twitching restlessly.  Steve moans sharply in response, bobbing his head back and then forward again while Bucky grips at his hair.

There’s a thud as Bucky’s head hits the door, and he actually keens as Steve rubs his tongue along the underside of his cock.  “God, _look_ at you.  You got a mouth made for this, baby, _shit_.”

Hand tight around the base of his dick, Steve pulls back until just the head is in his mouth, rubbing his lips against the frenulum as he swipes his tongue over the slit.  Above him, Bucky starts up a breathy chant of _fuck_ and _Christ_ as Steve moves back down, fucking his mouth onto Bucky’s cock until his lips brush the circle of his fingers.  Then after a long moment he looks up at Bucky and lets his mouth relax.

For a second Bucky just stares at him; finally he groans loud enough that anyone in the elevator outside would probably be able to hear him, and rolls his pelvis back and then forward. Steve lets go of him, reaching down to palm himself through his pants while Bucky begins to screw his mouth with a stuttering moan.

“God, Christ,” Bucky breathes, and lets his head rest on the door so that he can hold onto Steve’s head with both hands.  “Fuck, Jesus, _Steve_ , you’re so—you’re just so, holy shit.”  As Steve tips his head back, resting against the door so he can look up and watch Bucky as he falls apart, his fingertips grazing the hollows of Steve’s cheeks.  He rolls up onto the balls of his feet every time he fucks forward, his words garbling into incoherent vowel sounds.  It’s maybe an embarrassingly short time before his fingers are pulling at Steve’s hair, perpetually on his toes as his thrusts become shorter and he whines out, “Steve—fuck—Steve, I need to—”

Steve’s thumbs press against Bucky’s hipbones as he hums in the back of his throat, and, stuttering, Bucky jerks out of his mouth and comes all over Steve’s lips.  It seems like it’s only Steve’s hands on his pelvis that keep him from falling to the floor.

After a long second, Bucky gathers himself and kneels between Steve’s splayed legs.  Steve is still wiping his face with his wrist, and Bucky laughs, resting his head on Steve’s shoulder.  “ _Fuck_ ,” he mutters, mouthing at Steve’s throat.  “God _damn_.”

Steve chuckles against Bucky’s ear, slinging an arm around his neck and hooking his heel over Bucky’s calf.  Bucky breathes out against his skin as he feels Steve, hard against his belly, and shuffles back on his heels so he can lean down over Steve’s lap.

“Wait, whoa, wait,” Steve says, though he lifts his hips when Bucky tugs at his jeans to get them down to his thighs.  Bucky raises his eyebrows.  “Um.  In the elevator.  Last week.”

“Yeah?”

Steve can feel the blush rising on his face.  “You—you said you could…” he traces his fingers up the heel of Bucky’s metal palm.  “You said you could make it vibrate.”

“Seriously?” Bucky asks.

Looking away, Steve shrugs a shoulder.  “Never mind.”

Bucky shuffles closer and leans in to press his mouth along Steve’s collarbone.  “Nah, it’s just, nobody’s ever asked.”

“I’m asking,” Steve says, arching his back so his nipples press against Bucky’s fingers.  He pulls in a sharp breath and wriggles until he’s sitting in Bucky’s lap.

Bucky rubs hard at his nipples, then lets his hands wander downward, past Steve’s hips to where his jeans are bunched up around his thighs.  Then he traces his thumbs up the inside of Steve’s thighs and leans in to kiss him.  He curls his metal hand around Steve’s cock and slowly drags his hand up the shaft and then back down, his other hand returning to Steve’s nipple.

“Ready?” he asks, his lips against Steve’s.  When Steve nods hard, he grins, then sits back to watch Steve’s face as his metal hand begins to vibrate, lowly, against the base of his dick.

Steve’s head hits the door as his hips jerk up, making a high-pitched whining sound.  “ _God_ —holy fuck,” he gasps, hands flat on the floor as he rolls his hips into Bucky’s hand.

Pushing his nose against Steve’s, Bucky twists his hand as he slips it upward, tightening his grip as he reaches the crown.  Steve grabs his shoulder and lets out a low sob, beginning to actually shake.

Steve tips his mouth up toward Bucky, who sits forward, still slowly jerking Steve’s cock.  As they kiss, Bucky ramps up the vibration on his hand, and Steve’s fingers dig into his hair.  He comes with a long whine, holding so tight to Bucky that he might actually bruise.

For a long minute, Steve doesn’t move, still shaking his way back to earth.  Finally, he lets go of Bucky, curling up toward him and pressing his face against his neck.  “Whoa,” he whispers.

“Good whoa, or bad whoa?”

Steve laughs and sucks a mark onto Bucky’s shoulder.  “Good whoa.  _Really_ good whoa.”

Wrapping his right arm around Steve’s waist, Bucky sits back, hauling Steve with him and putting his left hand down on the floor behind him so that he can lower them down gently.  It’s not that comfortable—their legs are still curled up against the door—but Bucky yawns as he lies back.  Steve curls into him with a contented murmur, and they doze.

**Author's Note:**

> [Find me on Tumblr!](http://rooonil-waazlib.tumblr.com/)


End file.
